Carson: Redux
by Raidersrule76
Summary: A top-to-bottom re-write of the original story. The Titans form a tentative partnership with a wandering, teenaged gunman who claims to be hunting Slade. A dash of BB/Rae.
1. A Tinge of Insomnia

**I have my reasons for doing this.**

**Aside from a nostalgic interest in Teen Titans itself, I still feel bad for leaving this series unfinished. This is done partly to get closure on that, because it still nags me to this day. Also, I recently re-read the original story, and was appalled at how I ever considered that passable writing. As such, I decided to go back and completely re-do everything, removing the OOC-ness, the absurd author's notes/interjections, the plotholes, the spelling/grammatical errors, the MacGuffins, and hopefully raising it to a higher standard in general.**

**I've also found it difficult to concentrate on writing my own, original pieces. This is a way of measuring my own writing ability--a then vs. now thing--before I really commit. Sad to say, "Carson" and its sequels are still the best examples of my writing out there. If it's to be that way, then I'd rather they at least read better than they used to. I'd also like to get a better handle on my OCs, especially Carson and Cassius Pavayne, in the hope of someday using them in my own works.  
**

**I've already removed certain scenes and chapters altogether for storytelling's sake. The original first chapter, for instance, is gone. But don't take my word for it. See for yourself.**

**The standard disclaimers apply. Note that, yes, this is going to be BB/Rae, as was the original and its successors.  
**

* * *

The door to the living room slid open with a soft, but audible, whir. In stepped Beast Boy, his eyes quickly adjusting to the otherwise impermeable darkness enveloping the room. It was a moonless night, the sky shrouded in a thick layer of clouds.

It was four fifteen in the morning, and Beast Boy was restless. Having once again tossed and turned in bed for the better part of the night, he'd once again decided to take a quick walk around the tower, in hopes of clearing his head. About halfway into his circuit, it once again occurred to him that the GameStation wouldn't be in use at this late hour, and he'd once again eagerly made his way to the living room, intending to vent his negativity on computer-controlled swarms of alien invaders. But now that he found himself there, Beast Boy found that, once again, he had lost all interest.

This was a phenomenon that was all-too common with him lately.

Instead of leaving the room, however, he continued his walk along the room's perimeter until he came to the front window and its normally spectacular view of downtown. Tonight, however, a heavy layer of fog hung over the bay. The lights of downtown peeked through the mist, but the city itself was hidden from sight, and what light there was could not illuminate the room he was in.

But the unyielding darkness was soothing to Beast Boy. The stillness of the scene allowed him to find his center, to focus his thoughts. In his mind's eye, a blonde-haired teenage girl materialized. He tried to picture her smiling at him, but his mind did not comply. She hated him, he knew that much, and he would never see her again. And this was how he was doomed to always remember her--face alight with fury at his perceived betrayal, eyes red with barely-suppressed tears.

"But I didn't tell anyone," he whispered to the night. "Why wouldn't you listen to me?"

"She never seemed particularly stable," said a voice from behind him. He jumped, caught completely off-guard by the unexpected company.

"You can relax." And he did; as the voice began to register, the sudden tension ebbed away, and the fight-or-flight reflex with it.

"Raven... you scared me," Beast Boy said shakily, voice cracking on the last syllable. He swallowed hard, and silently ordered his vexingly pubescent vocal chords to function properly. "Um... what are you doing here?"

"Meditating, before you barged in. Just as I was last night, and the night before." Raven replied, rising from her seat on the couch and moving to join him. "It surprised me that you didn't notice I was here on the first night, but now I understand why." She spoke directly to him, yet her gaze never wavered from the far side of the bay. "You were too preoccupied thinking about her."

Beast Boy turned to face her, but she kept her eyes on the city. She almost never looked him straight in the eye. _Why is that?_ "Yeah. She..." He could hardly get the next words out. "She wouldn't even let me explain, Raven. She just left." He sniffled. The tears hadn't come yet, but he had faith that they'd make an appearance. "She hates me. There's no way she doesn't."

Raven was silent for a moment and Beast Boy doubted that he would get any reassurance from her. She surprised him, however. "Terra...clearly has something she needs to work through," said Raven, her tone diplomatic and her words carefully chosen. "Trust issues that run far deeper than you--than we can guess." Her head turned just enough so that she could meet his gaze, once again surprising him. "Give her time. I'm not saying it's for certain, but she may come back one day."

"And if she doesn't?" Beast Boy asked. His tone was practically pleading for something concrete, but Raven would not indulge him.

Her head turned back to the far-off city. "Then she doesn't. Life will go on, Beast Boy, with or without her. The sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be."

Beast Boy sighed, tearing his gaze away from his blue-cloaked teammate and resting his forehead against the window. "That's not exactly what I wanted to hear, Raven."

"No, it wasn't," Raven conceded. "But it's what you needed to hear."

They were silent, as Beast Boy contemplated this. Raven was right; he was young, and there were plenty of fish in the sea. But Terra was special, made him feel worthwhile. Valued. Terra was someone he could see himself with, someone who would care for him, nurture him. And he could think of nobody else who met that description.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Raven's cloak rustle as she shifted her weight uncomfortably.

"Hey...Raven?"

"Yes?"

"Are we..." He was vulnerable, pensive and introverted right now, and could not think of a single valid reason as to why he was asking this. "Are we friends?"

He couldn't bring himself to look at her, and focused instead on the condensation forming on the window with every exhaled breath. Beast Boy regretted asking, couldn't fathom why he would throw such an absurd question at her. "I'm sorry, forget I said--"

"You're always trying to make someone laugh, to make their day worth getting out of bed over. Usually mine," she added wryly. "And you never stop trying, no matter what I say or do." There was warmth in her voice that he'd never heard from her before. "I'm glad to have you as a friend."

The warmth in her voice seemed to fill Beast Boy, relieving him of his troubles and fears. Truthfully, he'd known that Raven cared for him; his trek through her subconscious with Cyborg could attest to that. But he needed the reassurance. She seemed to understand that better than he did, and knowingly provided it. "Thanks. That means a lot to me."

"You're welcome." She swatted at his head playfully, and he smiled. "For future reference, Beast Boy, don't ask such stupid questions. If I ever stop liking you, then you can rest assured that I'll give you 24 hours' notice before declaring open war."

_That didn't take long._ He'd hoped the change in her behavior would last a little while longer, but she'd reverted to form without missing a beat. _So much for a kinder, gentler Raven._

The alarm derailed his train of thought, shrieking rhythmically as a bright red strobe illuminated the room. "No rest for the righteous," Raven sighed, pressing a slender hand to her forehead. "There go my hopes for a peaceful morning."

"Uh...yeah, about that." Beast Boy raised his head from the window, idly tracing patterns in the moisture left by his breath with his fingertip. "Sorry. I know how important it is that you meditate all the time..."

"Oh, I meditated plenty before bed," she replied, talking over the klaxon. "And then for another half an hour before I came out here."

Beast Boy was flabbergasted. She'd lied to him! "Then what were you doing out here in the first place?"

The door at the other end of the room slid open once again. The klaxon and red strobe petered out, as the room's main lights blinked on, one by one. Robin stood at the door, wide-awake and dressed for combat, a grim expression on his face.

Beast Boy looked at Raven, not expecting a reply. She surprised him, however, for the third time that night, with a small half-smile that, for some reason, made his heart ache. "Waiting for you."

* * *

**Seems a mite odd for the titular character to not appear in the first chapter, no? **

**The more I think about the story, and the direction it's going to take, the more I realize that neither Carson nor Beast Boy and Raven are the ultimate focus here. And that's how it'll be, at least until the revamped Ascension.  
**

**I'll post the next chapter once the third is done, and so on in that order. I hope you approve thus far.  
**


	2. Subverted Heroism

Jump City's warehouse district was the drab, seamy counterpoint to the sunny, optimistic city proper. The entire six block stretch of land was row after row of cavernous, mostly-deserted storage facilities and ex-factories. A city-wide financial crisis had forced the closure of several such warehouses, putting thousands out of work and leaving the buildings themselves to be used as little more than a convenient place to squat for the night.

In spite of this (or perhaps because of it), a trio of nervous, impatient teenagers crouched at the entrance to one such building, trying (and failing) to look nonchalant. Over them towered a muscular, black-jacketed thug who leaned against a jet-black Harley-Davidson, arms folded petulantly.

"Hey, what gives?" the thug snorted. "You said you'd have this nut cracked in ten minutes. It's been...uh..." He glanced quickly at a wristwatch. "Twenty."

A thoroughly vexed Gizmo whipped his head around at the thug. "Listen here, Johnny Retard--"

"It's _Rancid, _you bald little bitch! Johnny _Rancid!"_

"Your name's Booger Snotshit for all I care," Gizmo snapped. " And you'd better shut your stinkin' trap. You got any clue how complex this security grid is? Cross the wrong wire and you could trigger the alarm, and that's the best case scenario."

"What's the worst?" Mammoth whispered, exchanging a fearful look with Jinx.

"We all get blowed to smitheroons. Or electrocuted. Or the alarm's silent, and I triggered it without knowing. Either way, everyone needs to shut the slobberin' hell up and lemme work already." Gizmo returned to his work, muttering vaguely and incoherently.

Johnny Rancid just rolled his eyes, and brushed a bit of lint off of his jacket's sleeve. "Tch, whatever man..."

"I told you to shut your freakin'--aha!" Gizmo clapped and wrung his hands victoriously. "That's what I'm talkin' about!"

With a heavy, mechanical groan, the doors slid apart, grinding loudly as they opened for the first time in months. Gizmo turned back to Johnny Rancid, who was staring incredulously at the now-open warehouse, and blew a raspberry at the thug before hurrying inside with Jinx following close behind . Mammoth's colossal size prevented him from entering with the others, and so he stood waiting for the doors to open wide enough to accommodate him.

The doors suddenly stopped moving, sparks flying from the gears at either end of the doors. Mammoth pouted, perturbed, and peeked his head inside. "Hey, Gizmo?"

"What?"

"The doors are jammed."

"So?"

"We still worried about a security system?"

"What kind of scuzz-lickin' question is that?! Of course we're not!"

Mammoth shrugged. He pulled his head back from the door, latched both hands onto one end, and heaved. With a horrible metallic screech, the door was wrenched free, and he effortlessly tossed it away.

"What the hell do you think you're _doing?!_" Jinx hissed at him.

Mammoth was perplexed. He answered as Johnny Rancid ducked under his arm for entry. "But...but Gizmo said that the security system wasn't a problem anymore."

"Yeah, the _security system _isn't a problem," Jinx said condescendingly. "That doesn't mean nobody could come by tomorrow and see that some idiot ripped the door off its hinges!"

Mammoth's heart sank. As the lights to the warehouse flickered into being, he could see Gizmo and Jinx regarding him with a shared look of exasperation, and Johnny Rancid smirking haughtily. "Oh. Sorry guys."

Jinx groaned in frustration and pressed her face into her hand. "Let's just get what we came for. Rancid, you're familiar with the layout. Where's the merchandise?"

Johnny Rancid turned his arrogant smirk onto her. "You blind, Pink? It's wall-to-wall! Take a good...look...around...holy--"

The warehouse was, indeed, quite empty. The only trappings of civilization were a moth-eaten armchair and a squat coffee table propped up by a book under one leg, resting in the near corner of the warehouse next a bulging cubicle which was marked by a splintered, weathered old door.

"What in Mad Max' most holy name is this?!" Johnny Rancid exploded. He fell to his knees and pounded the ground with a meaty gray fist.

"Oh, THIS was time well spent," Jinx yelled, husky voice echoing throughout the derelict cavern. "Out of all the places we could have gone tonight, of all the heists we could have pulled, we followed Johnny Rotten--"

"RANCID!" he roared, punctuating his declaration with another pound of his fist.

"Whatever the hell your name is, it doesn't change the fact that you led us on a wild goose chase into an empty warehouse that was supposed to be filled completely with counterfeit jeans! UGH!" Somewhat fatigued by her outburst, she wobbled over to the armchair and flung herself down, sinking into it with a frown.

Mammoth and Gizmo went to her side, Mammoth examining the armchair with interest. "Say, this actually isn't bad. Wanna take it with us?"

Jinx' eyes drifted up to Mammoth, and she smirked, amused despite herself. "Nah. Let's just get the hell out of here. HIVE's probably gone all to hell without us."

"That seems likely." The trio's eyes darted over to the door, and their hearts sank as it was slowly nudged open from the other side.

There was a loud crash from outside, coupled with the screeching of burnt rubber. Eyes wide, Johnny Rancid rose and whipped his head around, staring out the gaping maw of the warehouse in shock. "Cecilia!"

* * *

"Cyborg, I think you just totaled someone's bike," Robin said, leaning over the dashboard to get a better look.

Cyborg mimicked his action, squinting at the now-tangled mess of black-and-silvery metal. "Did I? Huh, you're right." He beamed. "And not a dent to my baby at that. Sturdy craftsmanship, right Rae?" He turned around and grinned at Raven, seated in the back, and she rolled her eyes in a practiced, affectionate motion.

"We all marvel at your technical prowess, Cyborg," Starfire interjected. "But we have other reasons for being here, yes?"

"She's right," added Raven. "Cyborg may buff his ego after we've taken care of this break-in." Cyborg frowned at her lack of enthusiasm, but the girls were quite right.

The five of them disembarked and rushed into the damaged warehouse, where a bizarre scene greeted them, like some surreal stage play with the actors frozen in tableau.

The first thing the group noticed was the heavily-muscled, gray-skinned biker who rested on his knees and stared at them with an expression of unfathomable grief on his face. Far behind him were the familiar three H.I.V.E. students, Mammoth, Gizmo and Jinx, and with them was a completely unfamiliar figure--a tousled, humorless-looking boy who held them at gunpoint. The five individuals were now glaring at their new guests--the biker's grief had given way to an expression of tearful rage, while the H.I.V.E. all had the same cautious expression on their faces. The fifth--the one with the gun (a revolver whose chrome finish gleamed in the faint fluorescent light)--regarded the Titans with a detached, bemused sort of curiosity.

Before any of them had the chance to speak--before Robin had the chance to quip--the biker climbed shakily to his feet and jabbed at them with a meaty finger. "Which one of you little FREAKS," he spat, "drove the car that killed Johnny Rancid's bike?"

Beast Boy coughed and jerked a thumb at Cyborg, who shot a withering glare back.

Slowly, Johnny Rancid's red, tear-soaked eyes came to rest on Cyborg, and his face completely distorted with fury. "Her name...was Cecilia…and she belonged...to James Dean..." He suddenly reached for a holster in his jacket pocket, drawing a pistol. "You ugly stupid robot ni--"

A gunshot cut him off mid-slur. "GodDAMN! My hand!" Johnny Rancid cried as the blood-stained Beretta clattered noisily to the floor. The boy with the gun had trained his weapon on Johnny Rancid and fired before Rancid could get off a shot of his own (or indeed, before the Titans could react to the threat).

Robin wasted no more time. "Titans, GO!"

They charged, but with the villain disarmed, there was little more to do. Raven and Beast Boy flanked him, cutting off his forward escape route, while Starfire hovered overhead, eyes blazing with righteous fury. Robin and Cyborg advanced on him while the others hung back, and Rancid, his gun-shot hand cradled close to his chest, tugged a wickedly-curved purple knife from a strategically-placed sheath on his jacket pocket. Apparently, he wasn't as disarmed as they'd thought.

Ignoring Robin altogether, he charged at Cyborg, knife upheld. Robin, perhaps miffed at being snubbed, caught his wrist and twisted his elbow backward. Reflexively, the thug dropped his knife, crying out in pain. "Please please please, not the other hand too, please--"

Cyborg's fist collided with his stomach, and he doubled over clutching at himself. Robin released his arm and struck him in the back of the neck with a karate chop, and Rancid dropped like a sack of hammers, unconscious. The Titans immediately shifted their attention to the H.I.V.E.; in the same motion, Robin had drawn a set of energy disks--

--and almost dropped them in shock when he saw that they hadn't moved an inch. Their eyes were still set on the boy who held them at gunpoint. Even when he'd given them the window by shooting Johnny Rancid, they had remained rooted to the spot.

This disturbed Robin greatly--in all their experience with them, the H.I.V.E. never once showed any sort of apprehension towards anyone. Yet there they were, looking terrified and helpless, at some kid with a .45.

Said kid had holstered the weapon once Johnny Rancid went down and now sauntered over to his unconscious body (the trio of supervillains dutifully remained where they were). He knelt before the biker and examined him briefly before casually stripping off his leather jacket.

"Hey--what do you think you're doing?" Robin demanded.

No reply; the boy continued going about his business. He finished doffing Rancid's jacket, leaving him in a black wife-beater, and examined it closely before removing the knife's now-empty sheath and tossing the jacket itself away. He reached for the fallen knife.

"Hey, dude," Beast Boy said, stepping up next to Robin. "That's evidence. You're not supposed to be tampering with it."

"That's nice," he replied dismissively, examining the knife.

The boy was working his last nerve, Robin thought. "Look, kid--"

"Carson," the boy supplied, now reaching for the pistol. "If you're going to give me a dressing-down, do it properly."

"...Carson," Robin said through gritted teeth. "It's great that you helped us out tonight, but this is our area of expertise. So if you wouldn't mind--"

With a cry, the heretofore unconscious Johnny Rancid suddenly sat upright and shot a hand out towards Robin's throat, catching the Boy Wonder off guard.

In a single motion, Carson caught him by the wrist and pushed it back against the joint_. _There was a mighty snap, and Johnny Rancid began to scream in pain. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why do you hate my hands so much, you little--"

"Shut up." Lifting Johnny Rancid's gun by the barrel, he drew his arm back and smashed the grip across the biker's jaw. He fell silent once again, out cold.

The other Titans had drawn closer around Robin at Johnny Rancid's sudden outburst, needlessly in hindsight. Carson stood, tossing the gun down beside the unconscious biker, and looked Robin in the mask. The two were roughly eye level, with Robin having about an inch on him. Despite being substantially shorter than most of the other Titans, he didn't seem at all put-off or intimidated. "I know who you guys are," he said evenly, "and it's funny that we should meet up like this. I was gonna pay you a visit anyway."

"Is that right?" Raven said, piping up suddenly. "That's very convenient."

Carson angled his head to look at her. As soon as he caught sight of Raven, a sudden flicker of emotion seemed to play across his face, up until that point an emotionless mask not unlike Raven's. Robin just barely caught it--for that instant, Carson seemed almost...gleeful. _Curiouser and curiouser, _he thought with a frown.

"I love a good coincidence," Carson replied with a hint of mirth. "Or contrivance, call it what you will. The fact remains, I'm in a very good position to make an offer to your team."

Robin raised an eyebrow beneath his mask. "An...offer?"

Carson nodded. Gesturing behind him to the still-shell-shocked H.I.V.E., he said "I can handle these three, so you can go ahead and take off. But I want you to meet me again in an hour."

Robin glanced behind him at the H.I.V.E. To his surprise, Jinx was no longer looking at Carson--she had her eyes on the Titans themselves, on one of them in particular. "You'll see these guys sent off to the big house?" Robin asked skeptically, silently cursing the lack of eyes on the back of his head. "And then you want us to meet you back here--"

"You misunderstand," Carson interrupted. "I don't want to meet _here."_ He said this as though it went without saying._ "_McMurtry's Coffee House, down 9th. I'd rather discuss it in comfort. And I don't want to meet the team," he added, sweeping his gaze across the others. Robin strained, trying to get a closer glimpse at his eyes, but for some reason they seemed hidden from the light--he couldn't even tell what color they were.

"I want to meet you," Carson finished. "Privately. It's less conspicuous that way."

"Robin," Raven said quietly from behind him. "Wrap this up. We need to talk."

"9th Avenue, McMurtry's, one hour," Carson reiterated. "Do we have a deal?"

Robin turned around to the others, reading their expressions. Starfire was clearly distrustful of the newcomer, and Cyborg seemed to echo her sentiment. Beast Boy seemed ambivalent, unable to decide whether or not Carson was on the level, though if Robin were to venture a guess, Beast Boy was leaning towards "hells nah."

And Raven...had her hood up, hiding her face from view. But somehow, her eyes were still visible. She looked Robin directly in the eyes--a look that was all at once pleading and insistent--and he turned away again, back to the H.I.V.E. Jinx was looking at the ground once again, and Robin suddenly understood.

He looked at Carson once again, whose face was once again calm and impassive. Robin sighed. "It's a deal. I'll see you in an hour."

Carson smiled broadly--an obviously forced gesture. "I'm looking forward to it." Without another word, he turned his back on the Titans and walked back to the H.I.V.E., each step measured and deliberate.

* * *

**A vast improvement on the original chapters, if I do say so myself. It was originally supposed to be part of the first chapter, but I cut it in two parts because of the length. In retrospect, maybe I should have kept it as one chapter. It may have made the intro that much stronger.**

**I'm trying very hard to keep the antagonism between Robin and Carson preserved, and indeed expanded upon. That's why chapter 3 is taking so long for me to crank out; I have to get that tension just right, and it's proving to be something of a challenge.**

**Do leave a review, my good reader. I'd like to know what you think.  
**


	3. Behind Green Eyes

"Robin--"

"I don't want to hear it." Robin slid into the passenger's seat of the T-Car and pulled the door shut. The unnecessary amount of force he used gave his curt statement tone of finality, and Cyborg's loud revving of the T-Car's engine expressed his frustration. But he was undeterred.

"It doesn't matter if you don't wanna hear it, I think you NEED to hear it," he pressed as he navigated through the rows of warehouses (Raven muttered something about unoriginality under her breath). "We know next to nothing about this new kid, and all we DO know is that the terrible trio's pissing their pants over him for some reason. And you want to meet him one-on-one?"

"In a coffee shop!" Robin said loudly. "We're going to be sipping lattes in comfy armchairs, not trading blows in a boxing ring!"

"Also a viable method of establishing dialogue," Starfire added. The silent, quizzical stares from Raven and Robin (Cyborg was concentrating very hard on the road; Beast Boy was conspicuously quiet) prompted her to add, much softer, "On my planet, at any rate..."

Another few moments of confused silence passed, before Robin broke the stalemate. "Look, he did us a favor tonight. And he doesn't seem all that bad."

"He shot a guy," Cyborg said flatly, slowing to a stop at a red light.

"In the hand," Robin shot back. "Non-lethal."

"He still shot a guy!" Cyborg reiterated. "How can the goddamn Batman's apprentice not see the problem with shooting a guy, even if it wasn't to--damn, son!" He swerved suddenly as another car--a sporty red Cadillac--sped by, narrowly avoiding a collision. "He'd best thank his lucky stars that traffic problems are out of our jurisdiction, or else I swear..."

"We've all done some morally questionable things in the past," Robin replied quietly. The tone in the car immediately softened as the team realized just what he was referring to. "I don't think I need to remind you of my own," he said with a hollow laugh. "Even Batman has had his share. But the one line he never crossed--that none of us has ever crossed, will ever crossed--was the taking of another life."

The T-Car slowed to a stop again. Cyborg glanced over his shoulder as the car inched backward into a curbside parking space. "I'll bet that Gizmo kid's never killed someone before; doesn't mean he's not a little jackass..." he grumbled.

Robin glanced out the window, frowning at the still-thick layer of fog. He was surprised (as well as impressed) that Cyborg was able to drive so competently in such poor conditions. Still, he wasn't quite certain that his mechanical comrade had found his way home--last he'd checked, Titans' Tower didn't have curbside parking. "Why are we stopping?" he asked.

"9th Avenue, McMurtry's Coffee House," Cyborg said in a falsetto, mimicking a tour bus driver. "Unless you actually WANT to waste gas with two trips. That stuff ain't cheap."

_And he's eco-friendly, _Robin thought. _Throw in an Easy-Bake Oven and every household in America would want one. _He unfastened his seatbelt, pushed open his door (the car's internal lights failed to snap on; Cyborg began to mutter to himself), and stepped out of the car.

A thought occurred to him suddenly, and he looked back in. "Raven. You mind stepping out with me?"

He couldn't see Raven's reaction, but caught Starfire's surprised, slightly jealous expression thrown his way, and Robin made a note to explain himself to her later.

"I'd love to, Robin," Raven said flatly. "I'm a little pinned down at the moment, however."

Robin raised an eyebrow, confused, and looked a little closer. The fog obscured the pale orange street-light, but by what glow it gave off he could just make out the center seat's occupant--Beast Boy--slumped over to his right, with a billowing blue stretch of material draped over his--

He stifled a laugh. Beast Boy had fallen asleep on Raven's shoulder. And he was using her cloak as a blanket. He exchanged the same look with Starfire, who smiled sweetly, and with Cyborg, who looked to be repressing the uproarious laughter to end all uproarious laughter.

"If you're finished with the love-in," Raven drawled, "I'd like to get out of the car now." She snatched her cloak away from Beast Boy and quickly vacated her seat, opening and slamming the door behind her. Curiously, Beast Boy didn't heed any of this and simply fell over onto Raven's now-empty seat, yawning and cuddling into the warmth her body had left behind. She shot Robin a withering glare--a glare that very clearly, if non-verbally, said "Not one word"--and leaned impatiently against the nearby street-light.

"Call me when you're ready," Cyborg said, still smirking. "I'll be up." Robin nodded and stepped away from the car. The window rolled back up with a quiet buzz, and the T-car sped away.

Robin swore he could hear loud, boisterous laughter echoing from the car as the fog swallowed it up.

* * *

"--So obviously, the glare wasn't enough for you?" Raven asked icily as she stepped into the coffee shop. Robin, who held the door open with an outstretched arm, disguised another laugh as a cough, and she scowled at him. The boy wonder was seriously pushing his luck.

The shop itself was a smallish little nook with a retro-'50s tint to it--booths lined the long, rectangular windows, the padding on the seats having clearly seen better days. The center of the shop was furnished with a pair of wicker armchairs and another pair of worn, but functional, love seats. A wooden coffee table sat in the center, the four chairs arranged around it at the corners. Just behind this arrangement was the counter and cash register, behind which a strapping, balding man in his late-'40s stood, staring expectantly at the two heroes.

"I think what's more impressive," Robin said, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him, "is that he managed to stay asleep through Cyborg's driving. That's something."

"Not really," Raven replied as she navigated to the counter. Given his troubled sleep pattern as of late, Raven wouldn't have been surprised if Beast Boy managed to sleep through an earthquake. Or a tsunami. The end of the world wouldn't be such a stretch. To the cashier, she said "Do you have tea?"

"Earl Gray," he answered in a rich, deep, English-accented voice. "It's about all we have, sorry if you were hoping for variety."

"It's fine," she sighed, producing a handful of singles. "Smallest size you have."

The cashier accepted the money and handed her the change, then turned and called "Tea, earl gray, hot!" over his shoulder. He nodded at Raven and offered a "thank you, miss," but she'd already taken a seat in one of the wicker armchairs.

Robin ordered and paid for his coffee, then joined Raven at the table. "I figured you'd dragged me out here because of what I said earlier," she began, "but as long as we're on the subject...I'm worried about Beast Boy."

"He hasn't been sleeping," Robin said with a knowing smile.

There was an almost palpable screech as Raven's train of thought ground to a halt, and she stared, perplexed, at Robin. "Cyborg gets the security feed from the tower beamed into his head while he's recharging," he explained. "He showed me the footage from the last couple of nights. I was gonna talk to him about it, but you seem to have beaten me to the punch."

Raven nodded. "It might be better if you talked to him anyway," she said. The man from the counter interrupted their conversation briefly to deliver Raven her tea. She muttered her thanks and sipped tentatively. "I'm not so good in situations like that. People skills don't come easily to me."

"No," Robin said, smiling at a private joke. "I think you can handle it just fine." Raven's expression must have been particularly hilarious this time, because Robin chuckled to himself before he explained. "I guess you haven't noticed just how much he looks up to you, respects you. I don't think there's anyone more qualified to talk him through this thing than you." The cashier returned briefly to deliver his coffee; Robin thanked him and pressed it to his lips, lifting the cap and blowing lightly. "Might just bring you two crazy kids together," he added, taking a sip.

"I--" Blind sighted completely, Raven could only raise her hood and hope that the shadow concealed her blush. "Was there something you wanted?!"

Robin set the cup down, still smiling. _He noticed, _Raven thought darkly. She fought very hard against the urge to say the most cutting remark she could conjure...which, given her current state of befuddlement, was "Your face."

He spared her, thankfully. Robin's smile faded, and he sighed. "Yeah. I guess we should get down to it, shouldn't we? Still, you gotta admit--that was a fun two minutes, wasn't it?" He broke into another grin, which Raven dutifully ignored.

"Jinx communicated with me, telepathically," Raven said, all-business. All traces of mirth and playfulness were wiped off of Robin's face immediately, as he focused intently on what Raven was saying.

"I thought you couldn't read minds?" Robin asked.

"Only if they keep their minds closed to me," Raven corrected. "One has to knowingly and willfully open their minds to me in order for me to communicate telepathically with them." She sipped at her tea again, grimacing at the too-bitter flavor. She missed her herbal tea.

"How Jinx knew of that particular quirk, I can't say for sure," Raven continued. "But she opened her mind long enough to deliver a very short message. For you."

Robin set his coffee down and leaned forward, somewhat enraptured. "And that message was?"

"'We need to talk. Your life depends on it.'"

A moment of stunned silence passed, before Raven saw the front door open and heard the soft chime of the bell hung from its top. Stepping out of the soup-like fog was boy with longish, unkempt dark hair, draped in a too-big leather jacket stripped from the body of Johnny Rancid.

Raven sipped her tea and nonchalantly jerked her head in his direction. "I know," Robin said quietly.

"I can fly home," Raven said. "You'll want to be alone." Still gripping her coffee, she stood up from her chair and made her way to the door, passing Carson as she went.

By the time she reached the exit, she had to grip the door tightly to still her trembling hands. The sheer malevolent force emanating from that small, pubescent form would haunt her for some time to come.

* * *

"I hope you'll excuse me for postponing this conversation," Carson said affably as he took Raven's now-vacant seat. "But this seemed like a better venue for our talk. Warmer too." He pulled off the leather jacket and set it on his lap, leaving him in a charcoal-gray long-sleeved T-shirt and frayed, worn-out Levi's.

"No problem," Robin replied. "Seeing as we were never properly introduced--"

"Carson Elam," the boy sitting across from him interrupted with a tight smile. "And you're Robin. Leader of the Teen Titans. Prodigal bat-child. You need no introduction."

Robin seethed inwardly, annoyed at being cut off. "I'm from Gotham," Carson explained, "and you're somewhat famous there, believe it or not. Prodigal bat-child and all."

"I actually go by 'Robin' now," Robin replied sharply, stung by the upstart punk's condescension. "Are we going to talk, or aren't we?"

"In a moment," Carson replied coolly. Robin frowned as he worked, very hard, to scrutinize him. He radiated a sort of steely calm, a complete mastery of his own expression and body language that confounded even Robin. His features, young and boyish, seemed locked in that same quiet smile.

"I expect you have some questions," said Carson. "And I'd be more than happy to answer them."

"Very astute of you," replied Robin. "I'll start off slow: How is it that you got entrance into a sealed-up warehouse long enough to set up a nest, when the only way the H.I.V.E. could get in was by tearing the door off its hinges?"

Carson smiled to himself, apparently amused by a private memory. "Ah, that. There's more than one way to do anything; I'll leave it at that. The set-up was already there when I moved in. Squatters."

"You'd call yourself something else?" Robin asked pointedly, taking another sip. Carson's smile shrank; Robin counted it as a small victory. He wasn't completely unflappable.

"Touché. But as for the door, Gizmo was hard at work on it for twenty minutes before he cracked that nut. It HAD opened, Robin, but Mammoth got impatient. Or such is my understanding." That smile, that private smile, returned. "I wouldn't be surprised. He was never a terribly prudent person."

The cashier suddenly approached and handed Carson a cup of coffee; he offered a few dollar bills in return. "Keep the change, Pat." At Robin's curious expression, he clarified. "I'm something of a regular here. Pat knows what I like." He lifted the lid and blew gingerly on the beverage inside. "What were we talking about?"

"You," replied Robin, leaning forward in his seat. "You sound awfully familiar with the H.I.V.E."

Carson sipped, winced as he burnt his tongue, and removed the lid from his coffee, setting it onto the table between himself and Robin. Steam curled in a thin wisp between them, in mimicry of the fog that permeated the outside world. "I was enrolled once," he said. "For a couple of months. A week or two ago, I parted ways with their syndicate."

"So they were familiar with you in turn," Robin supplied. "They seemed completely petrified of you."

At this, Carson's heretofore casual, almost charming smile took on a terribly menacing quality. His eyes quite literally flashed; a spark of golden light seemed to play across his deep green irises. The entire package unnerved Robin, but he was able to steel himself.

"I...left an impression on them." Carson reached for his coffee again and sipped, smiling. "That's the good stuff, right there. But anyway. There's been some internal conflict within the H.I.V.E. Politics, squabbling--simply put, the entire hierarchy is in chaos. There was some upheaval. A coup, if you will. Lines were drawn between the then-headmaster, and a challenger who goes by 'Brother Blood.' I was with the latter. Jinx and her boys were with the former. You can imagine how well that went over."

_An internal struggle in the H.I.V.E.? _Robin thought. _Explains why they've been so quiet lately. _"So who won?" Robin asked.

Carson shook his head. "I can't say. Left before there was any real resolution. As for Jinx and hers, they should be in a maximum-security juvenile detention facility by now." He mimicked Robin, leaning forward and crossing his arms over his thighs. "Enough about that. You want to ask what it is that I want. What kind of proposition I have for you."

_He doesn't play around. _"Right again." Robin settled back against his chair, back fully upright. "You should know that the gun gives something of a bad first impression."

"Stereotyping, are you Robin? A bit low for an equal-opportunity good guy like yourself." Carson leaned back in his own seat and crossed his legs. He resembled a chess master watching the game unfold before him. "I try to avoid lethality as a rule. By and large, I use non-lethal ammunition. Rubber bullets, that sort of thing."

"Rubber bullets don't blow holes in people," Robin pointed out, grimly noting the irony in his adoption of Cyborg's position.

Carson was unperturbed by Robin's disdain. "Live ammunition and lethality don't always go hand-in-hand." He winked, and Robin groaned quietly at the terrible pun. "As for my background, it's irrelevant at the moment. Simply know that I'm a hired gun, a paid specialist--"

"A hitman," Robin supplied.

"--I prefer 'mercenary.' It sounds cooler." Carson inverted the position in which his legs were crossed. "Semantics, Robin, are irrelevant. I'm here on a job; the H.I.V.E. wasn't good for me and now I have to get back home. Nabbing a certain bad guy in this town should be my meal ticket out of here."

"'A certain bad guy?'" Robin echoed, intrigued despite himself.

Carson nodded, reached for his cup again, and took a long drink. "He goes by 'Slade.' Sound familiar?"

Robin's lungs voided themselves at the mention of Slade's name, and he sucked in a deep breath to compensate, balling his hands into tight fists. "You've been hired...to kill Slade?" he asked, floored.

"Heavens, no," Carson laughed. He drained the cup completely, crushed it in his hand and set it on his right armrest. "I've not been hired. And I'm not going to kill him. He's wanted by the United States military. The MPs have had an outstanding warrant for his arrest for more than a decade now."

Robin's stomach churned with suspicion. He hadn't heard any of this...

"I can get him," Carson continued, "and claim the reward, get back where I belong. But my resources are limited, and my lodgings...well, you've seen where I live. What I propose--"

"I'm not letting you on the team," Robin said flatly.

Though he smiled, Carson's annoyance showed plainly in his eyes. "Do stop interrupting," he said calmly. "I don't want a spot on the team, Robin. Rather, I want a place to stay, and access to your resources. I'll conduct my own investigation and operation, completely independent of you and yours. I'll stay out of your way, keep to myself, and be a model house-guest."

Head cocked to one side, Robin tried to process this request. Carson admittedly wasn't asking for much. Titans' Tower's primary processor was the most powerful on the west coast. Measures could be taken to protect sensitive files and information--Cyborg would be the one to talk to about that. And he was offering to take Slade down, free of charge. Much as it bothered Robin, there were no leads on that front--indeed; Slade had stayed underground since the incident involving Terra some weeks before. A new pair of eyes, a fresh mind, might catch something he and the others had missed.

Still...Carson was off. Disturbingly casual and unusually eloquent for his age, not to mention inscrutable. The potential security risk was staggering. But five Titans, one of him--the odds were stacked against him in the event of a showdown. And they could keep him on a short leash.

"_We need to talk. Your life depends on it." _Jinx knew something, and he had to figure out what. But until then…perhaps it would be best if the Titans kept an eye on him themselves.

"If I let you in," Robin said, at length. "If I agree to your terms, then you have to follow a few conditions."

"Name them," Carson replied pleasantly, uncrossing his legs and folding his hands on his lap. _Like a good little boy. _

"You're in our home," Robin said. "You follow our rules. You obey the restrictions we put on you. Your access to our facilities is limited. You treat the others with respect."

"Agreed," Carson said without skipping a beat. "Honestly, I thought those things were givens."

"Yeah, well..." Robin rose from his seat, stretching. "Can't be too careful." He extended his hand to Carson, who rose, met his gaze, and gripped Robin's outstretched hand with his own.

Carson smiled, once again, a wide and friendly smile. And as he did, Robin swore he saw another flash of light play across his eyes...

* * *

**I'm rather pleased with how this one turned out, though the ending...troubles me a bit. Honestly, this was the chapter I was most worried about, since I was writing it basically from scratch, without any reference at all. Overall, I think it's fine. **

**Like I said, this chapter has no analogue in the original story. It was necessary to give a better introduction to Carson's character, and to establish his dynamic with Robin early on--as opposed to the original story, where he just sort of...stumbled onto the Titans and they let him in without question. Here, Robin is anxious about letting Carson into the Tower, but wants to keep an eye on him, which explains his motivation a little better.**

**I also wanted to establish his friendship with Raven, since the other Titans were rather periphery in the original stories and seldom interacted with one another on a personal level. Also, the question of Raven's feelings for Beast Boy is raised, giving me room to explore a hypothetical crush, whereas in the original it was simply assumed that it was there and left at that.**

**I'm not sure how I'll use Starfire, since I always found her difficult to write. And the character doesn't interest me that much. But I'll do my best to keep her in the mix. I don't want her to fall off the face of the earth, so to speak.**

**As always, reviews are welcome, appreciated and demanded with unnecessary vigor.**

**We're three chapters in and it's already half as long as the original. What does that say about me...?  
**


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